Break My Fall
by Permanent Rose
Summary: Detective Jane Rizzoli is tough, gorgeous, sassy, and smart. She's a woman who is everything Maura isn't, a woman who suddenly has Maura wild with desire. But behind her gruff exterior, Maura can sense that something's not right with Jane's life, and for the first time, Maura is brave enough to entangle herself in another's life as she navigates the messiness of love and heartache.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: A little bit of a preface for this story before you read, just so you have a basic grasp of what I'm planning to do with this. It's a little AUish, in the sense that Jane and Maura are in their mid-twenties, so they're less established in their careers than on the show. Maura has just finished medical school and has landed herself a job as a medical examiner at the BPD, where Jane also works. Jane has been dating Casey since high school, and he returned from Afghanistan a year ago after being deployed (and please don't let Casey scare you away - I promise this will be devoted to Rizzles.) The rest shall be up for you discover as this story unfolds. I hope you enjoy! :)_

_Also me starting a new story doesn't mean that I'm not going to finish _Find Me Here_. That is a promise. I'm already working on the next chapter of that._

* * *

_She thinks back to her first memory. _

_She thinks past musty books with flimsy pages, decorated with words she longed to know. She thinks past ruffled dresses scratching her throat, past Miss Vonnie's French lullabies._

_She is two. _

_She knows this not because her parents have told her, but because of the framed photo on the edge of the mantle that has the date inscribed on the back. _

_The fair, wide-eyed child does not smile, clothed in white next to a glowing bride. _

_If she closes her eyes, she can feel the pinch of the shoe buckles, digging past her lacy tights. It is so hot she can smell the heat in the air. She tugs at the elastic string under her chin, keeping her wide brimmed hat fixed to her head. The stairs behind the church are empty, the silence pulsating frantically around her. She touches the remaining flower petals in her basket, blush pink, brittle between her sticky fingers._

_"Don't leave the steps, Maura, darling. We'll be right back."_

_She stands until her legs ache. She watches the sun creep to its apex, searing and blinding. _

_She is too bewildered to cry. _

XXX

"Excuse me, can I help you, ma'am?"

She hovers in the doorway of the morgue, the air chilly and stale. A small, but sturdy Asian woman stands in front of her with a clipboard, bangs swooped across her wide forehead, her magenta eyeglasses decorated with rhinestones.

She feels strangely intimidated. "I'm Maura Isles." She waits for the woman's expression to contort into one of recognition, but it only becomes more territorial. "Dr. Pike's new assistant."

The woman raises an eyebrow, her eyes sweeping the front page of her clipboard.

"I was supposed to meet him this morning at eight to begin my training," Maura further offers, feeling frustrated and a little warm, despite the icy air.

"Dr. Pike doesn't have you listed on his schedule," the woman states, her voice flat, but it inflects with a hint of superiority. "He doesn't even come in until nine today."

Maura draws her lips into a thin line. Her throat closes, her stomach burns. She doesn't know what to say; her extensive schooling has not taught her how to handle stubborn lab technicians. The mountains of required reading have not taught her how to deal with people at all. She supposes twenty-six years of life should have been adequate preparation for this, but she struggles to make connections, struggles to make lasting impressions. Sometimes she wonders what it would be like to not be forgotten.

The woman looks mildly apologetic for a moment. "If you'd like to return in an hour, I'm sure Dr. Pike will see you."

Maura nods in appreciation, feeling the knots in her stomach untangle one by one.

XXX

She breathes in the fresh air as she steps out of the elevator on the ground floor, bustling with the hum of a busy Monday morning. She steps up to the counter at the station cafe, earning a wide smile from the woman behind the register.

"What can I get you, sweetheart?" she speaks with a drawling accent. She has shoulder length hair, peppered with sporadic strands of gray. She gives off a motherly vibe that meshes with the homey cafe. It's the perfect remedy for her flustered state. More at ease, Maura's eyes scan the menu; she's not much of a coffee drinker, preferring home-brewed tea, but a latte seems like the perfect way to pass the impending hour.

With her warm beverage curled between her fingers, she scans the cafe area for an empty table, a corner for her to hide for a moment and gather her thoughts. Perhaps Dr. Pike's unintentional delay will provide her with the peace of mind to tackle this job with confidence and finesse. After all, she has promised herself to make the best of this.

She has lost herself in her chain of thoughts, because as soon as she turns, she barrels straight into a uniformed officer, her coffee sloshing all over her perfectly pressed blouse.

"Ma'am, I apologize," he stutters helplessly. His voice cracks a little over the words. Her eyes dart wildly to his face, which is small and boyish, looking more like it belongs to an adolescent than a man. He runs his hand through his mop of dark hair, looking just as flustered as she is.

"It's fine," her voice is an octave too high. She stumbles away from him, forcing a smile, before she ducks into the nearby bathroom.

She bites her tongue until she's certain she won't cry.

Collecting herself, she reaches for the paper towel dispenser, immersing a sheet in water as she dabs at her blouse. Luckily the color blends in well with the beige hue of her shirt. The toilet flushes a couple stalls down, and Maura's neck snaps upright, her hand tightening around the soggy paper towel.

She had not realized she was not alone. She hears a sharp thud as the woman strides out of the stall, the door swinging against the frame.

Maura notices her legs first, long, muscular, strikingly bare. Her dress is a small, black, sequined thing, hardly covering the curvature of her gluteus maximus. The muscles of her calves are taut as she balances precariously on an impressive pair of stilettos, in which her feet hardly look at home. The fraying fur that lines her once white coat is noticeably faux, and she has left it unzipped, exposing a plunging neckline. Her breasts are small, but nicely formed, a thought that leaves Maura blushing. Her face is surprisingly plain, a great contrast to get gaudy get up. Her eyes lack the dark, smoky makeup Maura would have associated with such attire, but they hold a natural beauty that Maura can't help but to admire.

The woman pulls a small bag of makeup out of her purse, looking a bit anxious as she sorts through the contents. She starts with a tube of ruby lipstick, applying it hesitantly to her lips. Maura continues to dab at the stain, though she can't help but to glance up sporadically. She has already made hasty judgments, unsure what spurs her fascination, though something tells her she still would have noticed this woman if she had donned a turtle neck.

"Shit," the woman mutters, her voice a warm, a surprising baritone. Maura steals another glance; the woman's hand shakes terribly, her eye pencil quivering in her grasp.

She stares for too long, and when the woman catches her, Maura quickly becomes consumed in her stain once again.

"Sorry," the woman mutters, offering Maura an embarrassed smile, which she catches through the reflection of the broad mirror. She dares to peek at the woman again. "I'm already bad enough at this, but having an audience makes me even more anxious…stupid undercover assignment," she adds with an aggravated huff of breath.

Maura's face widens, painted in curiosity. "Undercover assignment?"

"Yeah, kind of sucks being the only woman in narcotics – I was the one to get stuck with this god-awful get up." She rolls her eyes, exaggerating her expressions to keep their tedious small talk engaging.

"I didn't realize you worked here," Maura mutters, seemingly full of dumb remarks today. Spontaneous conversation does not suit her.

The woman laughs sharply. "Guess I should be glad my outfit is convincing. It's not every day you're thankful you look like a successful whore."

Maura's stomach bounces, full of hasty regret. "Oh, no! That's not what I meant. I was only -"

"Don't sweat it," the woman cuts her off. Her smile is big, perhaps a little large for her narrow face, but it's warm and natural. It makes Maura smile too, all the way up to the blush in her ears. Her stomach now quivers for other reasons. "So I take it you're new here?"

"Yes," she confirms, finding her voice, willing her cheeks to cool to their natural color. "I'm Dr. Pike's new assistant." _Hopefully, _she adds silently, _if my paperwork isn't crumpled off in some corner, wedged beneath an unwashed coffee mug._

The woman snorts. "Good ol' Pike. Have fun with that. Maybe with an assistant, the homicide unit will get test results back this generation."

_Is he really that terrible? She supposes this morning can attribute to that. _She nods. She smiles awkwardly. She wracks her brain, attempting to fuel the small talk.

"Damn eyeliner," the other woman huffs instead, filling the silence. Her hand wobbles again.

Maura hovers over the sink. The stain has faded significantly, now just a wet patch. In the dim lighting of the morgue, it won't even be noticeable. She should leave now; her presence is now forced and awkward.

But her feet are glued to the floor.

"Would you like some help with that?" Are these words even hers? Her lips are so dry she has to wonder how she has even managed to speak.

The woman turns, a mildly confused expression creasing her face.

"I won't claim to be an expert, but I am adept enough at applying makeup." Is she really that desperate to hold her attention? And further, she has practically insulted the one person who has given her the time of day. She has extracted herself so far out of her element and embarrassed herself so greatly today that she considers walking down to Dr. Pike's office and merely quitting. After all, this job is more of a safety net than anything.

But the woman's wide, pleading look of gratitude startles her. "Would you really? I suck so bad at this shit, and I'm probably gonna blow my cover if I try to pull this off myself."

"Of course." The words roll off the brim of Maura's lips. She steps up toward the woman, who towers over her. Maura shrinks back slightly, reaching for the discarded eye pencil.

"Here," the woman mutters, squatting down. The dress creeps further up her thighs.

Maura forgets to breathe. She's suddenly afraid her hand might be shaking too violently to complete the task herself. But she holds the eye pencil firmly in her grasp, admiring the natural bronze tint in the woman's soft skin, now close enough to see every pore. She paints a generous black line around the woman's eyes, feeling the woman's warm breath splash against her neck as she works in silence.

"There," she murmurs, stepping back, assessing her handy work. "Is that satisfactory?"

The woman's legs quiver, the muscles tensing as she stands. "Damn," she draws out the word, leaning up against the sink. "I don't even recognize myself."

Maura swallows. She chews timidly on her lip.

"Thanks a ton, I owe ya, okay?" The woman pushes herself back from the sink, wobbling again. "I'm Jane Rizzoli, by the way."

She offers Maura her hand; it's warm and electrifying, calloused and strong. She forgets that she owes her a response for a moment. "I'm Maura," she clears her throat, clenching her empty fingers together as Jane pulls away. "Maura Isles."

"Nice to meet you." Jane's mesmerizing smile is back. "I hate to run, but I got a deal to bust."

Her heels clamor noisily toward the door, leaving Maura with her stomach tumbling and an unexpected smile on her face.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Maura."_

_Her voice is soft, like a gentle chime of bells. __Maura looks at her feet. Her Mary Janes had been white this morning; now they are scuffed, streaked with tar. She chews on her lip. _

_She wishes she'd stop looking at her. _

_Maura keeps her eyes fixed on her feet, because she knows the minute she dares to glance up, Ms. Jacobs' face will be so cripplingly sincere that Maura's heart will fall right out of her chest._

_"Would you like to talk about what happened?" Her words are so sweet that Maura has to close her eyes for a moment, creating a buffer to keep herself from crying. She inhales, touching her face. She knows the bruised skin of her cheek must be a thousand hues of purple now. _

Yes, I'd like very much to talk to you. _But the words stick to her tongue and she's too frightened to speak them. H__er sincerity and concern are unfamiliar and_ the influx of vulnerability makes her queasy. 

_"May I stay in for recess today?" she says instead. She has gathered the courage to look up now, basking in Ms. Jacobs' angelic radiance. _

_Ms. Jacobs' eyebrows knit together; she draws her rosy lips into a thin line. Maura swallows a breath, and her stomach jumps. She wants so much not to be afraid. "Of course, darling," Ms. Jacobs finally mutters, her voice hushed. _

_Maura retreats to her desk, her breaths too sharp and too fast. Nestled in her desk is her large novel, _Jane Eyre. _A__s she burrows herself in the words, she finds that the heroine's features have taken on a strange likeness to Ms. Jacobs._

XXX

He is asleep.

She is grateful, as she peels her bare body from the sheets, her feet thudding lightly against the floor as she gathers her scattered clothing silently. She leaves the bathroom door ajar, avoiding the blinding light as she squints in the subtle glow seeping through the open crack.

She thinks about how terribly inaccurately the media depicts one-night stands. Passionate, graceful, natural. They fall asleep in unadulterated trust, and the world halts for them in this all-consuming moment. In reality, they are nothing more than tantalizingly fulfilling. Once the alcohol induced state and post-orgasmic gratification (_if_ this stage even occurs) have worn off, you're left with bumpy, unfamiliar mattresses, damp sheets, stale air, and a lump of inadequacy wedged in your throat. The satisfaction is always fleeting, but it is just enough to deceiving you into believing you want more.

She grimaces darkly into the mirror, tugging on her bra, panties and her dress, opting to shove her nylons into her purse. She hooks her fingers into the heels of her shoes, padding quietly from the bathroom, making a beeline for the door.

"You leaving already, babe?" a sleepy voice greets her. She halts, regretfully, biting down on her tongue.

She knows he doesn't remember her name, and the generic, overused pet name makes her nauseous. His name is Bill. While he only mentioned this once, a hasty introduction over a glass of Merlot, Maura has a knack for remembering names. It's a step further in the nomenclature process - a sub-species.

"I need to be getting back home," she whispers gently. Her desire for a hot shower and her own bed has most definitely crossed over from the category of a 'want' to a 'necessity.'

"When can I see you again?" He sits up in bed, his face earnest in his inquiry. The words leave her rigid; she feels guilty, yet annoyed that he has weighted their night with significance. The only way she can summon the bravery to seize these opportunities is to remind herself it's a one time encounter.

"Call me," she whispers, unintentionally seductive, so desperate to leave the suffocating room that her body aches. She kisses him quickly, dutifully; his breath is stale with slumber and the aftertaste of beer.

He falls back to the mattress. Maura makes her escape.

XXX

She loves the city in the morning.

The sun has dyed the far horizon a soothing shade of pink, and the streets have only just begun to hum with activity. Her heels click against the ground, as she slows her pace to breathe in the warm scent of cinnamon wafting from a nearby coffee shop. A young man sweeping the front walk nods politely, and she returns the sentiment, a natural smile creeping to her face as she embraces the morning.

Maura notices her before she recognizes her, taking long strides as she jogs along the sidewalk. Her heart skips an entire beat, and blinks a few times because she's certain she's fooled herself with wistful thinking.

The drug unit is on the third floor of the department. Though Maura's job keeps her strictly in the morgue, she has found herself on the third floor an alarming amount of times in the past week. She likes the vending machine options in the lounge there better. The bathroom has more privacy than the one on the main floor. Pike takes too long when using their ancient copier, so of course it's easier to utilize the one on the third floor.

They aren't lies; they're convenient excuses for a motive Maura keeps denying, though Jane's sporadic smiles and brief conversations make the game she plays indubitably worth it.

"Hey!" Jane's voice is breathless as she halts in front of Maura. Maura's head is spinning a little from the spontaneity of the situation, and her condition only worsens when her eyes register Jane's sports bra and spandex. Jane pants a little as she clenches her hips, leaning forward. Her abs flex noticeably. It is rare that Maura comes across a woman with such defined musculature, and her eyes drink in the majestic sight of her. "Walk of shame, huh?"

"Beg pardon?" Maura immediately snaps her head to Jane's face, a little flushed.

"You wore that dress to work yesterday." Jane grins through another air breath. That smile. It slays her, makes her insides melt into a messy puddle.

Maura's cheeks redden. She turns her eyes away, but she peeks at Jane bashfully through her lashes. She wishes she had something clever to say.

"Hey, no judgement. Just an observation." Jane winks, carrying on the conversation with ease. Her demeanor is so natural, exuding confidence. Maura wishes she could feel the way Jane looks, instead of this crippling panic that seizes her in any significant social interaction. "Hope it was a good night," Jane adds.

"You're up early." Maura avoids the topic, her observation plain and obvious. She wishes she could joke easily with Jane, already fearing that Jane will tire of her quickly.

Jane raises an eyebrow, as if debating whether she should continue to taunt her or not, and Maura is relieved when she speaks. "Yep, when I get my ass out of bed and moving, I surprisingly find that I can be a morning person."

Maura forces a smile, willing it to be natural, wildly searching for something to say. "Early risers who exercise on an empty stomach before breakfast can burn up to 20% more body fat." It's hardly eloquent, but at least it's something.

"Good to know," Jane laughs, slapping the skin of her toned stomach. "Been meaning to work off this extra weight."

"Oh, I didn't mean to imply that you had any weight to lose!" Maura feels her stomach drop to her feet, wishing desperately to rewind the conversation.

But Jane only laughs again. "I'm just kidding - lighten up, kay? You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

Stress does increase the risk for a heart attack, so perhaps it wouldn't be too outrageous for her to topple over right now. She sucks in a tiny breath. "I apologize. People make me nervous. Live ones, at least," she laughs a little.

Jane chuckles as well, and it takes Maura a minute to realize she has properly executed the use of humor, despite how achingly true her words are. "I guess working dead bodies isn't really the ideal way to build your people skills. Spend some more time with me, though, and we'll cure you of that," Jane jokes back with her, though she adds, "Listen, I should be going now, but I'll see you on Monday." Jane has already begun to jog in place, her abs tightening.

"Have a nice weekend," Maura offers, inhaling a breath of relief. Her stomach is a knotted mess as she finishes her trek home.

XXX

It's not until later, when she's curled up in bed with her satin robe, a cup of chamomile tea, and a novel on her lap, that it dawns on her that Jane has noticed her enough to recall the clothes she wears.

She grins against the side of her mug, her smile so big that it's a full minute before she can take another sip.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for all the feedback so far! I love hearing what you guys think :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: For the amount of time I spend planning this story you'd think I'd have more of it written down. Life has just reached a really busy stage, but I want you to know I am so, so dedicated to this story. Thanks so much for being so supportive!_

* * *

_"Maura-the-Bora!"_

_Their voices ring against the bathroom stalls, swimming with prolonged echoes as the noise builds around her. Maura presses herself up against the tiled wall, clenching her book against her chest. She chews on her tongue until she tastes blood. Her stomach knots, as her knees tremble beneath her weight. The throng of girls hovering in front of her blocks her access to the door. _

_She wants to cry._

_The biggest girl, who dwarves Maura by two full heads, steps forward from the circle. Stacey, whose mother is the headmistress of Willard Academy. Stacey, who is brutal and entitled. Stacey, who can do no wrong. _

_"What are you reading today?" Stacey looms over her. She grips the top of the book, easily tearing it from Maura's arms. They fall weakly to her side. She glances toward the door again. "Moby Dick?" Stacey reads the title aloud, earning a few snickers from the girls behind her. "Should I tell my mother you're reading books with dirty words?" _

_Maura feels smug for a moment, almost hoping to exploit her ignorance, but girls only laugh louder. Maura presses her back further up against the wall, biting down sharply on her lower lip. Stacey pages through the book for a moment, her fingers rough and uninterested. She tosses the book to the ground without a second thought. Maura jerks forward, her reaction instinctive as she reaches for the fallen book, but Stacey's response is quicker, as she juts her leg forward. Maura's feet catch on her shin, as she tumbles, her stomach flopping out of place as the impact steals her breath. __She keeps her cheek pressed against the ground, hot tears prickling from her eyes. She clamps them shut, their laughter so sharp she can feel it stabbing her skin._

Ms. Jacobs, _she pleads silently, like a prayer, _please come. _She wants to believe in miracles so badly. She wants to believe that promises are more than just words._

_But she is left with her face plastered against the ground, motionless, aching. She doesn't look up until she is certain she is alone._

XXX

Jane holds herself like man. Feet parted, thumbs hooked in her pockets, her stance broad. Though she's slim, there's nothing delicate about her. Maura glances at her from across the autopsy table. It's taking her twice as long to draw a blood sample as it usually does, because she cannot keep her eyes focused, not with Jane's bronze, muscled arms as just a few feet away.

"Sorry if I'm making you nervous," Jane mutters, though she steps closer to the table as she speaks. Maura stares intently at the vial clenched in her hand. She counts how many seconds she can make it without peering up. She doesn't even make it to ten.

"Oh, no, not at all," she tries to lie, but her voice is flimsy. "What brings you down to the morgue?" she adds quickly.

Jane shrugs, her hands still in her pocket as she saunters around to the other side of the table, taking a closer look at the victim's bruised, misshapen face. There is no hesitation in her movements - just a small hint of curiosity, but she is so nonchalant she might as well be picking out wallpaper patterns. "It's a slow day," she finally speaks, a little distracted. But after a moment, she lifts her head, her curls falling away from her face. She flashes Maura her characteristic smile. "And I thought you might want some company."

Maura almost drops the vial, her stomach jumping so unexpectedly as it is assaulted by a rush of warmth. She smiles so largely she can feel it aching in her ears. "That was very thoughtful of you." She wants to say more, but she cherishes the unexpected words, frightened of ruining the moment.

Jane, as always, carries on the conversation with ease. "So do you have a cause of death yet?" She continues to hover, assessing the body.

Maura answers her, a little more confidently now, as these are the kind of words she can form without hesitation. "I suspected brain trauma, but the intensity and location of the impact do not appear to be consistent with such damage."

"Judging by the black stains on his fingers, I'd say substance abuse may have something to do with it," Jane nods a few times. There's a look in her eyes Maura can't identify.

Maura is impressed. "Yes, that is certainly a factor I am taking into consideration, though nothing is conclusive until I get test results back. It looks like your time in the drug unit has made you a natural homicide detective." Maura forces a tiny chuckle.

It's hardly a joke, but Maura is still disappointed when Jane doesn't even pretend to laugh. "Something like that," Jane mutters, distracted again for a moment. Her brow knits gently as she looks at her hands.

Jane's phone buzzes loudly. She jumps. So does Maura. Jane digs it out of her pocket, her brow furrowing. "Shit, I gotta take this." She looks anxiously at the screen, and Maura's stomach drops in unavoidable disappointment, feeling small and childish.

"But hey," Jane stops for a minute, balancing on her foot as she hovers in the doorway for a fraction of a second, the familiar warmth back in her eyes. "If you're free, you should come up and join me for lunch in the cafe today, kay?"

She's gone before Maura can answer.

Her stomach hurts and flutters simultaneously.

* * *

_A/N: I am really going to try my best to post shorter chapters more often, as I tried to make this one longer and I think it was starting to stress me out with all the other things I have going on in my life. I'm hoping that with your busy lives short chapters will be satisfying to you guys as well. Please let me know what you think - your feedback means so much :)_


	4. Chapter 4

"Lunch with Jane" translates to lunch with her entire family, Maura quickly learns as Jane waves her over to a crowded table on the far side of the café. Maura blinks a few times, ignoring the small pit in her chest. She scolds herself for her disappointment; she reprimands herself for expecting to be special. It would be rude of her to leave now, but she feels that familiar tenseness rising in her stomach as she forces a smile to her face. She has not prepared herself for such an exhausting endeavor, as she's swept into the rapid whirlwind of introductions.

There's Frankie, just barely twenty, who has just been instated as an officer. Maura recognizes him from her first day here, as the boy who clumsily spilled his coffee on her blouse. They make eye contact, feeling the mutual blush radiate of their respective cheeks, though neither of them have the courage to acknowledge their brief encounter.

There's hardly time for Maura to feel embarrassed, however, because Jane's mother swoops in like a hawk, bearing a platter of broken cookies and leftover donuts. She recognizes her, too, as the kindly woman who works the café register.

"I'm Angela," she grins widely, taking the seat next to Maura. "It's so nice to see that Jane is making new friends." Maura smiles politely.

"Ma," Jane groans, slumping in her seat.

Angela glares pointedly in Jane's direction, though she continues to address Maura instead. "You dress so nicely, dear." Maura feels the pinkness rise to her cheeks once again, glancing down at her aqua dress. "Perhaps you could give Jane a few tips about proper _feminine_ workplace attire."

"_Ma,_" Jane's voice comes with a warning tone now. Maura quickly shoves a bite of salad in her mouth.

Angela huffs, instead turning to fix Frankie's collar, though he quickly swats her away. Jane offers Maura a small, embarrassed smile. Maura's stomach flops a little, nodding appreciatively toward her in return.

Joining the Rizzoli clan are Barry Frost and Vince Korsak, both homicide detectives, whom Maura has seen briefly down in the morgue, though her interactions with them have been professional and brief.

"What's up, Doc?" Frost greets her through mouth full of donut. Frankie snickers. Maura blushes.

"I'm doing well," she answers him, though her eyes stray to Jane again.

"Have you lived in Boston long?" Korsak addresses her this time, keeping the conversation steady and polite. She swivels her head, almost suffocating from the amount of attention she's receiving.

She nods, sipping her water. "I was born and raised in Beacon Hill, actually," she answers, willing the conversation to flow naturally.

Frost lets out a low whistle. "Damn, the Doc's living the good life."

Maura blushes even deeper, mortification threatening to seep in. But she glances toward Jane, who looks unintentionally seductive as she sinks her teeth into her apple. Maura swallows a breath, reminding herself that she has the power to make this lunch date go successfully. She reminds herself how much she _wants _this lunch date to go successfully and prove to Jane that she is worthy of pursuing a friendship with, that she is capable of playing on the same social field. "I attended BCU for my undergrad program and Harvard Medical School for my MD, so I've never strayed far from the Boston area," she concludes. "While it is a wonderful city, I would not mind branching out in the future."

Jane jerks her head up suddenly, inserting herself back into the conversation quite abruptly. "But you can't leave the city with the damn best baseball team in the country."

It's probably unintentional on Jane's part, but Maura's head feels a little light and giddy at the prospect of being wanted. Maura debates whether to argue the logistics of Jane's reasoning or to merely tell her that sports are not her cup of tea, but Jane's phone buzzes loudly on the table, leaving the words stuck in Maura's throat.

"Damn," she hisses, rising immediately from the table. "I'll be right back."

"Casey," Frankie and Frost speak in unison, a hint of exhausted agitation in their voices.

"I don't understand why she can't wait until we're done eating to take his calls," Angela sighs loudly. "Or if it just _can't _wait, why can't she talk to him here?"

"'Cause all they do is fight," Frankie answers without missing a beat.

Korsak grunts in agreement.

"He already called her at least once today," Frost seems just as eager to pipe in with his own thoughts. "Must be a bad one..."

While Maura is glad that she has successively faded into the background, curiosity burns in her gut.

"Hush," Angela looks a little flushed, especially as her eyes dart quickly toward Maura. "It's none of our business anyhow."

Frankie practically snorts. "Coming from you, Ma. I think it's safe to say you're dying to know all the nitty-gritty details more than any of us."

"Who is Casey?" Maura's words are hardly her own, erupting so suddenly and thoughtlessly from her mouth, but her need to know has suddenly seized her.

"Jane's fiance."

She doesn't know who ultimately answers her, because the words are so unexpectedly startling that she can't breathe properly for a moment.

"I didn't know Jane was engaged," she answers dumbly, a little frantically, giving herself more time to process the news. The news that shouldn't affect anything, she tells herself as she swallows another breath. There is no reason for her to feel so horribly hurt and betrayed. "I didn't notice a ring," she adds meekly.

"Can't be wearing a rock like with the kind of undercover assignments she does," Frost supplies the logical answer. "But Jane isn't the kind of girl who be too keen on wearing one anyway, so I think she milks that excuse for all it's worth."

The rest of the table, thankfully, seems oblivious to Maura's quickly souring mood. She excuses herself politely, before secluding herself back down in the chilly confines of the morgue. She picks up a sheet of test results, ones that she has already thoroughly assessed this morning. Her hand shakes slightly as the words muddle across the page.

_You're being ridiculous, _she scolds herself. _This doesn't change anything. _

But the ugly knot in her chest refuses to go away.

XXX

_"Maura, please come with me." _

_Ms. Jacobs' voice is soft, but commanding, as the other children file into the choir room. Maura's eyes dart once toward the door, before shuffling timidly behind Ms. Jacobs. They arrive back at her classroom, the silence soft and pulsing. Maura swallows loudly. _

_Ms. Jacobs sinks to her knees, her joints snapping lightly. She's level with Maura and now, and Maura watches her eyes swim with concern. _

_"We can stop this from happening," Ms. Jacobs promises her, reaching to touch her purple cheek. Maura flinches, but she does not pull away. "I can help you if you let me."_

_Maura mouth opens, but instead of words, a small, strangled sob bursts from her lips. Ms. Jacobs' form swims in front of her as her eyes pool with tears. Ms. Jacobs stands, swooping Maura into an unexpected embrace. __Her body stings, her senses on overload, but the influx of emotion is strangely appealing. It's the first time she's been properly hugged, and she's certain she doesn't want it to end. _

_"I'm here for you, whenever you need me." Ms. Jacobs' words are hushed, but firm._

_Maura clings to her more tightly. _


	5. Chapter 5

_But Ms. Jacobs' promise is hollow._

_Because Ms. Jacobs isn't Ms. Jacobs anymore. She's Mrs. Ackerman now, claimed with a flashy gold ring, whisked away by a husband with a prestigious job across the state._

But what about me?_ Maura longs to ask, as Ms. Jacobs says her solemn farewells on her last day. Maura's ears ring with her unspoken question, throbbing until they hurt._

_But she can't bring herself to speak the words, because they no longer matter._

XXX

_Multi-system organ failure, most likely due to an overdose of the diacetylmorphine found in his system…_

"Hey."

She jumps, because she thought she was alone. She glances up, her stomach turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees as she sees Jane hovering in the doorframe. Maura fidgets with her file, chewing on her lip to keep from smiling. She's frustrated, but Jane makes it so hard to stay that way. Jane shuffles through the door, hooking her thumbs into her pockets once again. "Sorry if today got weird. I didn't mean to ditch you at lunch." Jane speaks sincerely. Maura's chest unintentionally swells.

"There's no need to apologize," Maura assures her. It would be impossible not to grant Jane forgiveness; just one look at her face makes her knees feel weak. "I understand that you had necessary obligations."

Jane nods appreciatively, stepping closer to the examination table. She glances over at the sheet-clad corpse quickly, before finding Maura's eyes again. "So, um, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come to the Robber with me - you know, make up for that train-wreck of a lunch date?

Maura's brow furrows. "The Robber?"

Jane chuckles a little, running her hand through her hair. Maura watches the curls bounce before splay back over her shoulders. "Yeah, the Dirty Robber. It's that bar right down the street?"

The Dirty Robber hardly sounds appealing and not at all like her kind of scene, but saying no to an opportunity like this, especially one that she does not have to initiate, seems foolish. She hesitates for a small moment. "Alright, I'll come."

Jane grins from ear to ear. It puts Maura at ease, and she hates how much she has unintentionally invested in this woman. "Great. You almost ready to go?"

"Now?" Maura is a little bit startled. Spontaneity has never suited her well, and she would like the time to mentally prepare herself, as she's determined to overcome her socially inept tendencies.

"Yeah, it's past seven. I don't know about you, but I'm more than ready to get outta here," Jane reasons, pushing herself back from the examination table and beginning to edge herself toward the door. "Unless you're planning on keeping him company tonight." She nods toward the corpse, raising an eyebrow.

Maura smiles. She basks in the feeling of being wanted; it gives her the push of courage she needs. She files her charts and grabs her coat.

XXX

The bar is hazy and the air is a little bit stale, but it has a homey feel to it. Maura is glad when Jane slides into a booth in the back corner, distancing them from the small throng of people gathered at the bar area.

"Is this okay?" Jane asks, shoving a few loose curls behind her ears.

It feels like a date - the tension, the unspoken expectations. Maura wonders if Jane feels it too. "It's perfect."

Because even though the vinyl of the booths is a little sticky, even though there's only one salad option on the menu, she clings to the opportunity to immerse herself into Jane's world.

Their waitress is young, with short, cropped maroon-tinted hair. She smiles at the pair. "What can I get for you ladies?"

"A Sam Adams is good for me," Jane orders first. "You want a beer too, Maur?" Maura overanalyzes the use of the casual nickname and likes it more than she expected to.

"Actually, I'd prefer a glass of Chardonnay," Maura politely answers instead.

"Ooh, fancy," Jane teases her gently, leaning against the edge of the table, her shoulders broad as she hunches over. She has such a masculine energy about her that makes it even harder for Maura to fight her attraction to her. "Guess I didn't really peg you for a beer kind of girl, though."

"You pegged me correctly then," Maura attempts to chide in return, resting her chin against the palm of her hand. She waits a moment, afraid to let the silence settle between them, so she addresses the topic she's dreading but aching to know more about. "Today at lunch, Detective Frost mentioned that you were engaged. Do you have a date set?" The question hurts a little, but she keeps her voice casual, reminding herself that she has at least struck easy conversation.

Jane looks startled, as if she didn't expect the conversation to land on this topic. "No. Not yet," she speaks, almost a little anxiously. "There's a chance he might get deployed again, so we figured it'd be best to wait."

"Military?" Maura asks, daintily sipping her wine.

"Yeah...army," Jane clarifies, spinning her bottle cap on the table. "He was over in Afghanistan for almost a year the last time."

"That must have been difficult for you," Maura speaks sympathetically. The wine stings her throat. This conversation is harder than she expected it to be, and she hates herself for feeling so horribly selfish and pitiful. "Have you known him long?"

"Yeah, we've been dating since senior year of high school...been a little rocky here and there, but he's a good guy." She states the facts and nothing more. The lack of affection in Jane's voice surprises Maura, but then of course, Jane is not an overly sensitive individual. She tries to be happy for her.

Jane speaks before Maura can continue her interrogation. "But enough about me...I'm an open book, but you, on the other hand. You intrigue me." Jane takes a lazy swig of beer, grinning as she leans forward, the interest sparking back to her face.

Maura is floored. "I intrigue you?"

"Well, yeah," Jane cocks her head, as if surprised that Maura can not see her own appeal. "You're smart, you're pretty...and so damn reserved it almost frustrates me." She laughs a little.

"There's honestly nothing noteworthy about me," Maura protests lightly, though her stomach is turning delighted somersaults. Maura marvels at the sudden change in atmosphere.

"I refuse to believe that. I mean, the schooling you've gone through is impressive in and of itself. You're anything but ordinary," Jane lavishes her with compliments. Maura fights the urge to hide her pink cheeks.

"Thank you," she mutters quietly.

"'Thank you' is all I get?" Jane huffs lightly in frustration. "Here I am, dying to unravel the mystery of Maura Isles, and you continue to taunt me with enigmatic silence."

"Okay, fine then," Maura sits up a little straighter, not sure if it's Jane's goading or the slight buzz from the alcohol that gives her the courage to speak so easily. "Ask me anything you'd like."

Jane chews on her lip, leaning back against the booth. She leans forward again as she speaks, a smile on her lips. "What made you want to cut open dead people for a living?"

The question surprises Maura, but it pleases her, because it's not difficult to answer. "I was particularly adept when working with the cadavers in medical school, but as you can probably imagine, my bedside manner was atrocious." Jane laughs a little, and so does Maura, but she glances up, a more serious tone in her voice. "There's something comforting, working with the deceased - they'll never judge me, tease me - I can help them. I feel as though I have the opportunity speak for the dead."

"I don't know if I should find that fascinating or concerning," Jane's eyebrows arch as she gulps another sip of her beer. "Okay. Next questions. You got any siblings?"

She didn't realize that this was becoming an interrogation, but the questions are simple enough, so she plays along. "No, I'm an only child."

"Lucky you." Jane drains the rest of her beer, waving the waitress over so she can order another round for both of them.

"Frankie seems quite sweet," Maura counters, misinterpreting Jane's sarcasm.

Jane scoffs a little. "Yeah, Frankie's a good kid most of the time. It's my other brother, Tommy, who we've got to worry about. He's seventeen, and he landed himself in Juvie for six months."

"Goodness, I'm sorry to hear that," Maura eyes widen a little. "It seems quite ironic, to have you and Frankie both so invested in the law enforcement career, and to have a younger brother with such blatant disregard to it."

"Yeah, he's a rebel. I worry about that kid." Jane lets out a small sigh. She scratches her head, tousling her hair lightly. "But enough about me. Back to you." Her eyes sparkle, though Maura can't fathom why she is even remotely interested.

But she sips her wine, smiling a bit coyly as she braces herself for the assault of questions. But she hardly cares, because somehow, she has managed to make a friend. And in this moment, that is just enough.

* * *

_A/N: Let me know what you think! Your feedback is always much appreciated :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: So the one thing I hate about writing fanfic as I go is that what you publish becomes law and you can't really change things once you've posted. But I'm breaking that rule for a minute because I realized I made a tiny error in my last chapter so I just wanted to clear things up. I mentioned that Jane had been friends with Casey for years before dating him, and I realized that I didn't really want that tiny detail in there, so for all intents and purposes, all you need to know about Jane and Casey right now is that they started dating senior year in high school.  
_

* * *

_Her room is cozy and silent, just the way she has grown to love it. She sits on the edge of her bed, clad in her soft pink robe, curling__ her feet against the downy comforter_. _She braids her damp hair, in two even plaits, just the way Miss Vonnie has taught her. _

_She lifts her head as she hears a soft rap on the door. "Come in," she speaks, just loudly enough to be heard. __She expects it to be Miss Vonnie with her tea, but instead, her mother peers in around the doorframe._

_"I thought I'd bring this for you tonight." Her mother brings the tea to the nightstand, placing the saucer gently against the mahogany surface. Maura shrinks back slightly, hugging her knees to her chest. Her mother's presence is startling, and suddenly the room feels a little colder. _

_"Thank you, Mother," she mutters, her voice dutiful, her body a little tense. __She tries to remember her mother telling her she was adopted, but she cannot pinpoint a moment. She's always known, always known she didn't quite belong._

_"Your father and I have been been thinking, Maura," her mother begins, sitting down carefully on the edge of Maura's bed. __She's done up in a pantsuit, her hair fixed tightly against her neck, her makeup painted on with finesse. She had an exhibition tonight, which Maura is still too little to attend, she always tells her. Sometimes, though, she wonders what it would be like to be a part of her mother's world. "__You'll be ten next week, the age I was w__hen I attended Devereux Academy," her mother continues, naming her French boarding school fondly. "With the school year coming to a close, I thought it would beneficial to discuss the option." Maura glances up from her knees, a knot of heaviness in her chest. How far must her mother push her away? She already feels as though she's nothing more than an afterthought. "I just want what is best for you."_

_But Maura doesn't need what is best. What she simply wants is for someone to hold her._

XXX

Friday nights make her anxious, because she always feels this unspoken pressure to do something exciting with her life. But more often than not, she ends up alone, with only a mug of tea and a book for company. It doesn't usually bother her. She has learned to thrive on solitude, to appreciate the stillness, to bask in the silence.

But sometimes, the loneliness wins.

Tonight, Maura purses her lips in frustration, adjusting the throw pillow for the umpteenth time behind her back. She rubs her socked foot against her calf, rereading the same sentence multiple times, until the words throb against the page. Her tea is cold, but still filled to the brim, and as she takes a sip, it sloshes unpleasantly down her throat.

She's thinking about Jane.

She slams her book down in irritation, running her fingers through the length of her hair. She hates it. She hates that Jane has the ability to consume her; every part of the notion is irrational. Her devotion to Jane is premature - after all, she hardly knows anything about her. But what she does know entices her. Maura buries her face in her hands, because just thinking of Jane is making her smile like a lovesick school girl. She pushes her palms against her mouth, forcing the smile away, because she is being utterly absurd. Besides, Jane is an engaged woman. Maura knows how this game ends.

She takes her tea to the kitchen, dumping it down the drain, watching the small droplets of liquid cling to the stainless steel of the sink. _Be reasonable, _she demands of herself. _Jane is a friend and nothing more. _

She wishes the words didn't sound so devastating.

The doorbell startles her out of her frustration, giving her mind another task to focus on. She leaves the tea mug in the sink, smoothing down her cotton shirt and flexing her socked feet against the tiled floor. She inhales a breath, as she steps curiously toward the door. She opens it, cautiously, her hand falling away from the knob as she registers the figure on her welcome mat.

"Ian?"

He smiles at her, charming as ever, rubbing his thumb against his gruff neck, letting her process his arrival for a moment before he steps through the doorway. He engulfs her in tight embrace, and she stiffens for a slight moment, before letting her weight collapse against him. She lets out a small breath, her breath hitching as she expels it.

"You okay?" He mutters, his mouth brushing against her hair.

She nods, inhaling deeply, clinging to him a moment longer. "You just give exceptionally good hugs."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. He gives her a final squeeze. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too." As she breathes the words, they ache with genuineness. She's lucky to have Ian in her life, even if sporadically. She never meant to be friends with him, meeting him unexpectedly in college. She never meant to stay in touch with him, but she appreciates his unannounced visits more than she consciously realizes.

He follows her in, easily making himself at home on the couch. "Nice place you've got here," he nods, glancing around the modestly decorated apartment.

"Thank you," Maura dutifully responds. She joins him on the couch, sitting on the edge, leaving a good foot between them. "I do have to ask how you came across my address, though. I know I haven't been so good as to send you my latest living arrangements." Her tone is light and chiding, as a side of her emerges that only a rare few people are lucky to see.

"I stopped by your mother's house," he admits, looking almost a bit sheepish. He crosses his legs, settling deeper into the couch. "I thought it would be fun to surprise you." He chuckles, and so does she. "Also, I might have misplaced your number, seeing as a baboon stole my phone."

"A baboon?" Maura laughs, inching a little closer to him on the couch. She leans her elbow up against the back cushion, raising an eyebrow.

"You think I'm lying through my teeth, do you?" Ian shifts, unintentionally scooting closer to her. "I tell you, the little bastard stole my phone straight from my bag and scampered off with it before I could even properly manage to string together the appropriate profanities."

Maura rearranges her legs. She's now close enough to Ian that she can feel the heat radiating off his body. "So can I assume your encounter with a baboon means you finally made it Africa?"

Ian lets out a tiny sigh. "No, I just had a particularly negative experience at the zoo."

Maura's forehead knots solemnly. "Oh, I apologize, then-"

"Maura, Maura," Ian's laughing once again. "You take everything I say much too seriously. Of course I made it to Africa. And the experience was fantastic, minus the thieving baboon." He pauses briefly. "But you...let's talk about you now, shall we?" Ian prods, snaking an arm around her waist. She gladly exhales the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, letting her body fit against his.

"My life is hardly as fascinating as yours," she protests gently, but she continues. "I recently got a job down at the Boston Police Department, as an assistant to the medical examiner."

Ian can't help but to smile yet again. "I shouldn't be surprised...Maura Isles, Queen of the Dead. No wonder you're practically throwing yourself at me - you must be starved for live human interaction."

"I am not throwing myself at you!" Maura huffs lightly, but she burrows herself deeper into his embrace. "You just give exceptionally good hugs, remember?"

"I just dish out what I get," he tells her gently, kissing the top of her head. They're silent now, basking in familiarity of the moment. He never stays for long; there is something surreal about these fleeting moments, though they are always laced with traces of disappointment. She loves him, but she could never be in love with him.

"Have you heard from her?" Ian finally speaks, his voice a bit cautious.

Maura stiffens. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, because as taken aback as she is, she would be lying if she hadn't expected the topic to come up. "No." The ache from the memories are much fresher than she'd like to admit. Some days, she still feels like she's licking her wounds. "Have you?"

He pushes out a breath through his teeth. She braces herself.

"No."

There's a somberness left in the room, a taste of emptiness. She pushes away the unexpected influx of memories. Suddenly, she's thinking of Jane once again.

* * *

_A/N: Feedback is always much appreciated!_


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